


Bloody Lace

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Series: A Vampire at the Parrot Club [1]
Category: Dead Fish (2005), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anyelle, Blood, Danny is Danny, F/M, It's October--break out the Halloween, Vampire AND stripper!Lacey, duh - Freeform, procrastinating on other stuff..., vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: Danny hires on a new stripper for The Parrot Club, only she's a bit odd. She never goes out during the day, her stage name is "Lucy", and oh yeah, he saw her kill a man by draining his blood with her fucking fangs!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hurricane Matthew is gonna put me out of commission for a bit online, methinks. But here: Have a Halloween Devacey ficlet. If you have prompts for more, drop them in the comments or in my Tumblr ask-box, 'cause there is room for improvement. :)

Ask a baker if they loved cake and they'd likely give you an answer, "No, I'm surrounded by it from the moment I walk in to the moment I go home, I'm numb to it." It was likely the same for a number of professional players watching football, and maybe even a few teachers on the subject of having kids.

For Danny, he'd built The Parrot Club from the ground up, and was mighty fucking proud of it if he did say so himself. That usually meant, four nights out of the week, he was there in his office filling out paperwork, or shouting at some handsy loser molesting a waitress or dancer, or shouting at some bastard that owed him money and had yet to pay up. And that also meant that he saw more naked/half-naked women than he saw fully clothed on a daily basis.

One girl was four months pregnant and really starting to show so she'd dropped out recently. Another found a better job and resigned like they usually did, and one more was fired because she was a fucking crackhead that not only failed the drug test but he'd caught her stealing cash from his office. (It was fucking sad when you couldn't hire an honest stripper.) Auditions were needed to fill in at least two of those three spots. Some panting idiots, the same that came into the club to throw money at the stage, likely found the idea of these auditions _exciting_. To Danny it was just like buying a new tap for the bar; A necessary asset to his business.

To be honest, in the twelve years The Parrot Club had been open, Danny had seen just about every fetish and kink and body type there was to see. This was all business to Danny, in The Parrot Club, there was very little to get excited about.

And then Lacey French came along.

Her stage name was "Lucy", which didn't make much sense to Danny because "Lacey" was a far more strippery name. When she walked out, a tiny thing wearing a long coat past her knees, plain dark stockings, and a pair of red flats, her brown curls pinned up and just a touch of dark eyeshadow to draw attention to her blue eyes, Danny didn't get it.

Then she started swaying around without doing much yet, her eyes closed dreamily as she hummed to the rather sedate big band music. Lacey started slowly twirling and stepping like a ballerina, unbuttoning her coat one button at a time until it just sort of fluttered off her pale shoulders. She wore black lace bra and panties that were just more modest than a thong, a garter belt holding up her stockings, and all of it was nearly see-through, her flawless pale skin nearly white as snow in contrast.

If "it" was an awkward boner he'd hid by curling sideways in his chair to hide his lap while attempting to maintain a composed, not-blushing face, then Danny finally got it at that point.

Her style was brilliant from a theatrical standpoint, but as she spun and danced about, Danny couldn't help but think it was sexy as all fucking hell too.

"Lucy" did very well, on stage and in one-on-one showings. Danny was a bit envious of those fuckers, not that he would admit it. He was usually holed up in his office anyway to handle thick stacks of forms and taxes and ledgers, but it became a fucking necessity after Lacey was hired on or he'd likely come in his trousers like a fucking schoolboy.

She was also in possession of this fucking charm that would have a fucking priest hard-pressed not to jerk off. It wasn't like fluttering eyelashes and giggles, no, Lacey had a razor-sharp wit and a comeback for everything. They argued back and forth sometimes over this and that and damn it if it didn't feel like she was flirting when she did it. It was that grin that crept onto her fucking gorgeous face, _that_ grin was the thing that had him lose every time.

However, the one odd thing about Lacey was that she never showed up during the day.

Monday was payday, and usually the girls collected their checks on Tuesday morning or afternoon so they could cash it in while they ran errands. It wasn't unusual for some to collect on Monday night before they went home, but in Danny's sporadic ventures into daytime London he'd never once seen Lacey. He'd heard her chatting with his other new hire, Ruby Lucas, who had been trying to convince Lacey to come by her gran's café, but Lacey demurred. Later, Ruby said something to another girl about how Lacey never went out during the day at all.

Again, not unusual. Lacey worked a lot of later hours so she was probably asleep when "normal people" were out and about. But even Danny, who was often there until three in the morning, got up to mingle in the daylight. He never put too much thought into it because what the fuck did it matter to him, after all...but at the same time...

A few nights ago, when Lacey was off that night matter of fact, Danny was outside his flat heading into the building. He heard a peculiar squealing sort of cry from around the corner, (in the dark, naturally, fuck it all,) and praying to god it wasn't a murder or a fucking rapist, he went around to investigate.

It was Lacey and some handsome fucker against a wall, pressed together.

Only rather than Lacey pinned against the wall with the fucker rutting against her or snogging, she had him against the wall and her teeth buried in his neck. The man's eyes were shut and his face twisted in a bit too much agaony to be an orgasm, moaning weakly when Lacey pulled her teeth out of him and let him fall like a sack of fucking potatos to the ground.

Lacey, dressed in a little black dress that just covered her fine little ass and fit like a glove, licked her bloody lips before noticing Danny gawping at her in the dim light from the closest street lamp. He saw her blink, grin with sharp fangs stained with the man's blood, and heard her say, "Hello Danny, having a nice evening?"

The next thing he knew, she was in front of him, gently cupping his face in icy little hands. The next thing he remembered he was lying on the ground, out like a light. There was no trace of Lacey anywhere...and the fucker in the alley hadn't moved either.

Danny ran inside and locked his doors and windows without checking on him.

He needn't have bothered, anyway, as he'd learn on the news the next morning when the police rolled out after someone else did. The man had been dead, bled out on the ground, they say, likely dumped beside the apartment as there was no blood pool underneath him but a few dried drops from the slash torn in his neck.

Neck...blood...Lacey...

Fuck, fuck, fuck, vampire, _fuck!_

Danny wasn't sure what the proper protocol for firing a vampire was, so he decided to treat it like he had the crackhead. (Only he wouldn't call the police because first, they'd think he was a nutter, and second, turns out Arthur Kingsleigh there was a fucking piece of shit so it was a public service, especially to his wife.) Only Lacey didn't come in that night. Or the next. A full week went by without hide nor brunette hair of the girl. Vampire. Her.

So, in what was possibly the most fucking stupid thing he'd ever done, Danny traced down the address on her paperwork to a set of units in Soho. He knocked on the listed door, and when no one answered, he tried his most trusted method:

"Lacey French open this fucking door, I need to fucking have a word with you! I know you're in there! Don't you fucking thing you can hide-"

The door swung open, and an irritated Lacey leaned out.

"Fuck Danny, what time is it? Four in the afternoon? It's too early to deal with you right now."

"Early? It's the middle of the fucking afternoon!"

"I know! So bye-bye!"

Danny wedged his foot on the door before she could close it. "Ah-ah! Not so fast! You are going to explain to me what that fucking Dracula bit was all about, I'm fucking going to the police and-"

"And what? Say _'one of my strippers is a vampire'_ and have them arrest me?"

_Fuck._

Lacey giggled then as he visibly deflated. She opened her door and said, "Come on in, wanna drink?"

"Of...?"

"I dunno, tea, water, whiskey, vodka that's only just smoother than paint thinner?"

Danny Devine sat at a wobbly kitchen table having a cuppa with a vampire stripper from Australia. While attending the fucking strangest tea party he'd ever been to, Lacey answered a few questions he had.

"So you're a vampire? Do you...do you always go around biting people?"

"No. I have a fridge full of blood-bags-"

"Blood whats?"

"Blood-bags, y'know, those bags they use for blood transfusions in the hospital? I can drink it, make a sauce, put it in frosting, so long as I don't cook it. Humans are a sometimes-food, do you know how unhealthy you are? I mean, you alone, you're like borderline anemic, and you should really think about getting your eight hours and eating some fresh fruits and veggies."

"Did you fucking bite me? _When the fuck did you bite me_?!"

"The other night. It was just a little nip, really, I spit most of it back out. You're kind of disgusting."

"Well thank you very fucking much, now I know other fucking vampires in fucking London will be deterred by my unhealthy blood content!"

Lacey rolled her eyes and got up. She went into her cabinet and pulled out a bottle of gummy fruit-flavored vitamins. She plucked out a lemon-flavored one shaped like a gumdrop and put it in front of Danny.

"You need some vitamin C. Kinda surprised you don't have scurvy. I'd also get a checkup, I think you have a vitamin D deficiency, you could use a little sunshine for that or take a pill. Also iron, and seriously, get some sleep. You taste like a burned marshmallow, and I don't mean deliciously crispy, I mean burnt up and no good."

Danny stood up, glad that Lacey was bare foot so he had a few inches on her, making him look more impressive when he glowered down at her.

"And just why the fuck do you think I would be taking supplements on the advice of a fucking blood-sucker? I'm not Hansel, and you sure as fuck aren't the fucking witch that lives in the gingerbread cottage!"

Lacey snorted and started to laugh. He wished it wasn't such a merry sound. It was hard to keep scowling when it was such a happy little laugh.

"Sorry, sorry! You're just kind of hilarious, sorry!" she giggled. "Look, I don't eat people, I drink their blood. And if you've seen the news, you know Arthur Kingsleigh isn't much of a loss to society-"

"You fucking _bit_ me!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic, I nipped you. You didn't even notice!"

Danny opened his mouth to argue again, but then clenched his teeth shut with a sharp clack and threw his hands up.

"Fine! Have it your way! But answer me this, did you ever 'nip' somebody at The Parrot Club?"

"No. That's usually a bad idea."

Danny blinked. "The fuck d'you mean by that? Usually?"

Lacey smiled, folding her hands behind her back winsomely. "It's not my first go-round Danny. I've been the vampire stripper before. It's a great job if you think about it, I come out at night, get to sleep during the day, more glamorous than night cleaning."

Huh. That did make sense. Alright, point for Lacey.

"How...long have you been at..." Danny thought for a moment, then waved a hand in a circular motion. "All this?"

Lacey thought for a moment. "Um...liiike fifty-seven years? I turned in 1969, at least. Not a bad year to be a vampire, really. Best way to participate in the sexual revolution without contracting an STD at any rate."

Danny didn't need to think about Lacey and sex. He was surprised he could, since his brain was still processing the fucking _VAMPIRISM_ factors. He had it really fucking bad, didn't he? Shit.

"Alright, alright, alright," he raked a hand through his hair and groaned. "Fuck, l-look, alright? If you're gonna quit The Parrot Club, you can go right ahead and...do whatever the fuck it is vampires do. Otherwise you can keep working at the club, as long as you don't bite or fucking nip anybody. Yeah?"

Blue eyes studied him for a moment, then she smiled slowly and nodded. "Yeah. Alright. See you back tomorrow Danny, have a nice night."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotus0kid: If she turned in '69, do you think she's got some Mod clothes from her pre-vamp days she could slip into, maybe break lil' Danny's brain a bit? That'd be neat.
> 
> Fun fact! The Mod clique was pretty much done by '69 because the cool young people had all grown up and started going about adult lives with children and things. But vampire!Lacey has her ways. Also, I fully intended for this to be smutty but it turned into a cute not-really-a-date thing wherein she badgers Danny into eating at her flat. Such is fic.

When Lacey came back to work at The Parrot Club, nothing really changed.

(Except Danny, for his own fucking reasons, decided to see a doctor who suggested he get some more sleep and take a few supplements, and that was nothing Lacey needed to know.)

And the woman herself spent a bit more time sitting in Danny's office than before...which is to say _she was sitting in his fucking office_. This big fucker that came in to fight over the money he owed Danny stopped short to see a wee stripper in a slinky babydoll curled up in an egg chair, painting her toenails a right merry shade of fucking baby-pink. Why the fuck she decided to give herself a fucking pedicure in his office rather than in the dancers' dressing rooms, Danny didn't know...but he'd also be a fucking liar if he said he tried to make her leave.

Honestly, he'd gotten use to her sitting there and humming little songs and flipping through books...and teasing him. Now, Danny wasn't a fucking idiotic schoolboy. He knew birds liked to tease and flirt without intent to follow through, especially the fucking gorgeous ones like Lacey. But damn it all to fuck, if it wasn't hard to keep the blood in his proper fucking head sometimes.

Fortunately, Lacey was a vampire, who only went out at night, and Danny was typically at the club at night, they had never crossed paths outside their workplace to further scramble his fucking brains...until now.

Because Danny had popped into a shop one evening on a Thursday, which was a slow enough night that he needn't be at the club at all, usually, for some kind of food product. He'd settled on a cup of ramen and fell in line, noticing how odd that the bird with the shopping basket in front of him was as small as Lacey.

And brunette like Lacey.

Because it _was_ Lacey.

And she turned around and her blue eyes widened at him, and then her lips curled up in a grin. "Oh my god, Danny? What are you doing here?"

He held up the ramen. "Dinner."

Lacey frowned, plucking the package out his hand. She turned it around to show the nutritional label he never read, tapping pointedly to the sodium content.

"You do not need to eat this, you taste bad enough without being salty."

"You need to work on your fucking delivery," Danny snorted. Why did she have to keep talking about him like she was fattening him up for supper?

"And _you_ need to work on your eating habits. What was the last vegetable you ate?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?"

Lacey rolled her eyes and stuck the ramen behind some magazines before looping her arm around Danny's. "No ramen for you. You are coming home with me for a proper dinner."

"I'm not eating a raw fucking steak."

"No, _eww_ , I'm making grilled chicken and wild rice. And green beans. Which you will eat if you want dessert."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, my ma?" Danny huffed. Which wasn't entirely fair to Lacey because his mother's go-to vegetable was either mashed potatoes or greasy chips.

Lacey just smiled far too sweetly and they moved up to check out her groceries. The clerk was some bubbly twentysomething that had to be a new employee because no one was _that_ happy with a fucking minimum wage job. She even beamed at them while she rang up the purchases, and then she made a little squeaky sound.

"You are _so_ cute together!" she gushed out. "I love your outfits!"

Danny and Lacey looked at each other. Obviously, Lacey would look different outside of The Parrot Club. She was wearing some kind of peachy lip gloss and dark makeup around her eyes that wasn't too dramatic, her hair was down in loose curls around her shoulders. It was a surprisingly natural look, or maybe just lazy because it was early evening and she might just be getting up. It hardly fucking matter because as soon as Danny looked at what she was wearing it clicked with what the clerk was squealing about.

No one ever asked about Danny's fashion choices. And if they did, he doubted he'd tell them. The truth was pretty fucking simple: _He liked the Mod look_. He'd always been a short, skinny little bastard, and he'd admired the style in their snug-fitting suits. Tonight he was wearing a hunter green one...that just happened to match with the 60s-style [dress](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e5/61/a0/e561a0c4e911f0387cccf10acafae733.jpg) that Lacey was wearing.

It was a _nice_ fucking dress. It showed off her long, perfect legs, with a high-necked collar and three white buttons and little cap sleeves. On her feet were a chunky pair of heeled sandals, and a slightly lighter shade of green than his suit was.

They matched.

Huh...

Lacey turned an interesting shade of pink and frowned at the clerk, who obliviously went about her way ringing them up and chirping out the total. Danny figured the curse of keeping this job would be enough payback and they left the store with the girl's cheerful _"have a nice evening!"_ at their backs.

It was a mighty fucking large elephant in the room, or rather, following them until they reached Lacey's flat. Then it was in the room. She turned the lights on (fuck it was dark in there!) and put up the cold stuff in the fridge before finally blurting out, "We shall never speak of this again."

"Yeah, alright," he nodded quickly. "That's uh...that's a nice dress though."

Lacey rolled her blue eyes, but didn't look very upset. "Of course you would say that, Mr. Mod. But thank you," she gave a little twirl then and made a silly face. "I do rather like it. Now don't think flattery will get you out of helping me. You're snapping green beans."

* * *

Because Lacey was a vampire, she tended to pick and choose from the best fashions from the time periods she lived through. (Bless thrift shops and the ever-changing fashion industry.) Technically, that scene had been over by the time she had been turned, so she hadn't actually gone through a Mod phase. In the 60s Lacey had been a rocker girl anyway, and rockers and Mods often clashed over confliction counter-cultures until The Who and The Rolling Stones and the like made both factions cool. (Go figure.) But those clothes were really gorgeous, and some of those boys were _adorable_.

In his own way, Danny Devine was pretty adorable too. He'd likely get affronted and definitely find a way to use the word "fuck" five different ways to convey his displeasure at being called adorable, but that would just make Lacey laugh. Yeah, he was a wound-up, sweary little loan shark that ran a strip club, but she _liked_ him.

He saw her rip a man's throat out and came to find her anyway. There was something special about him, she thought, if he could do that.

This time she had invited him home for a meal that didn't come dried, frozen, or prepackaged. Lacey didn't really need to eat but she liked the taste of food, plus, it would be creepy if she just watched Danny eat what she served.

He eyed the plate like he'd never seen chicken and rice before. Maybe he hadn't. Lacey had his blood in her mouth, (there was no way _not_ to make that sound sexual, was there?) so she knew he didn't eat right, and wondered idly if he remembered she instructed him to eat some veggies and take vitamins. He probably didn't on matter of principle of not "being fucking told what to do" by her.

However, there wasn't so much as a grain of wild rice left on the plate when Danny was finished eating. He'd even eaten the green beans.

"Now, I believe I promised you dessert if you ate your veggies, yeah?"

Danny grinned. "Aye, now you're talking."

Dessert turned out to be bowls of ice cream and another glass of whiskey. Well, Danny had another glass of whiskey, Lacey had a glass of blood that looked liked red wine at first glance. She knew that because Danny did a double take and almost choked.

"What the fuck are you drinking? Is that fucking blood? Who's fucking blood is that?!"

Lacey giggled, taking an exaggerated slurp just to make him wait. "Mmm...in order, yes, yes," she licked her lips. "And cows blood. Ordered off the internet."

Danny knit his brows together. "You order blood off the internet?"

"Yup. You can order just about anything off the internet, you know. Lambs blood is better, but it's bloody expensive, er, no pun intended."

"Ah...a-alright...you can't order fucking body parts, can you?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"You just said they sold blood, what the fuck am I supposed to think?!"

Lacey snorted into her glass. "You are a strange little man, you know that?"

"Little? Who the fuck are you calling little, you're so fucking wee you could go sailing in a fucking teacup!"

Lacey almost spit. Which would have been a bit gruesome given that she was drinking blood, and in the end she made an absurd gurgling noise that made Danny burst out laughing. Lacey had never heard him laugh, it was surprisingly pleasant. Infectious even, adorable.

They made a bit of small talk until Danny's whiskey and Lacey's blood was gone, then he decided to head home. And there was no reason for him to stay here, anyway, and Lacey had chores and things that "normal" people did in the day time, so...date was over. Not that this was a date! Certainly not! They were just...having dinner, and a drink. And accidentally wore matching clothes because Lacey had put on this cute dress she'd picked up from a thrift store and gone to the grocery store that accidentally matched Danny's green suit.

Ugh...stupid little cashier girl!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joylee: Do the other girls at the club get wind of this and assume they're a couple? Must be serious cause Danny doesn't fool around with the help.
> 
> Zelena made an unwanted appearance, but otherwise it's all here. :) I'm gonna get to something smutty eventually but so far they just want to be cute and confused. *pets them*

Lacey didn't see Danny when she showed up to the club the that Saturday. That wouldn't be strange, he never left the office to watch the shows. But his office was never locked either.

Returning backstage, Ariel looked up from where she was gluing sequins down in strategic places on her chest as Lacey passed her by. "What're you doing back here?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you and Danny on the outs or something?"

Something about that statement confused Lacey, so she stopped and looked at the redhead. Ariel had a very original pole-dancing act; She wore a green fluttering skirt when she started out and twirled and spun around the pole like she was weightless, the skirt flowing around her like a mermaid tail. For all her grace on the pole, poor Ariel was an absolute klutz on her feet, however.

Almost as if the universe was proving that, Ariel got up and tripped over the leg of the closest chair, to approach Lacey. " _You know_ , you're always in his office after a show. Did you have a fight or something?"

Oh. So the other girls had noticed her... _thing_ with Danny. Well, she had nothing (except vampirism,) to hide.

"His office is locked, I don't think he's in at all tonight."

Ariel's jaw dropped and Lacey agreed: It was unprecedented for Danny to be absent on the weekend. Some might even say unnatural.

"Do you think something happened to him?" she whispered. "Maybe he crossed a loan shark or something."

"Ariel. He _is_ a loan shark."

"Oh, yeah. Well...maybe he crossed a client?"

"Ariel."

"Yeah, yeah, good point. Nobody messes with the Devine."

Lacey almost snorted. "Is that something they say?"

The redhead shrugged. "You hear him shout it over the phone sometimes if he takes a call outside his office. He's _really_ loud."

"That's what she said," Ruby snickered, adjusting the red cape she wore over her costume. Well, it was a scrap of a white dress under a corset with snaps for easy removal, with lacy thigh-highs and red frilly garters.

Ruby was one of the strippers that went topless, unlike Ariel and Lacey. People were very ignorant about "exotic dancers", pole dancing didn't automatically mean taking your clothes off, stripping didn't automatically mean being naked. Some strippers didn't go topless because they were uncomfortable, some like Ruby could dance topless but never went full monty. (Not to mention new laws prohibited doing an all-the-way show unless you had a special license, Lacey had learned, and everyone knew Danny ran a legal, if iffy, business.)

And Lacey rolled her eyes because _clearly_ Ruby had some misconceptions if her own.

"Anybody who's ever been in the room with Danny knows he's loud Ruby, what are you trying to say?"

"Aw, come on Lace," Ruby grinned, nudging Lacey in the ribs. "Everyone from us to the bouncers know you've got a thing with Danny."

"If by 'thing' you mean I sit in his office and tease him until he curses, then yeah, we got a thing."

Ruby arched a finely groomed brow. "Look, Lacey, you don't have to tell us what's going on with you and the boss exactly, but whatever you get up to in there, it _really_ mellows him out. Though I'd appreciate a hint or two, because I've got this uptight doctor I'd like to 'tease' myself."

Oh...oh god...they thought she and Danny were fucking in his office. Why would they-Well, Lacey supposed Danny did get, like, ten percent calmer when she was around. She never noticed that before...huh. He'd be putty in her hands if she actually sucked his cock...oh _fuck_.

"Yeah, okay, thanks for that image Ruby," Lacey made a face. "But _nothing_ is going on. Besides, you know Danny doesn't mess with his employees."

"You know, one of my sister's that used to work here said she saw Danny and a little brunette at the market last week," Ariel said as unhelpfully as possible at that moment. "Did you guys have a dinner-date at home?"

"What? You're seeing each other outside of work now?" Ruby's brow furrowed. "Oh my god, you are _serious_. I thought you were just-"

"Oh my god, you _can't be_ _serious_ ," Lacey scowled. "Look. Yeah, we had dinner, and yeah, I sit in his office. That's it. There is _**nothing** _ going on."

Ariel tilted her head. "So why did you go missing for so long two weeks ago? We thought you'd quit."

While Lacey knew Ariel was smarter than her bubbly personality let on...she picked a fine time to be a detective.

"I had a...virus," Lacey fibbed. "A stomach flu thing, really nasty. Vomit everywhere, couldn't leave the bathroom."

Surprisingly, Ruby winced with sympathy rather than suspicion. "Ooh, I know just the bug," she wrinkled her nose. "Granny came down with that just the other day, she's sick as a dog."

A blonde stripper with feathers over the right places coming fresh off the stage, who Lacey could never remember the name of, stopped and grabbed a t-shirt to pull over her head. "Oh what's wrong with your gran?"

"She caught that nasty virus that's been going around," Ruby replied.

The blonde made a face, too. "Ick, I hope she gets better soon. I think Annie brought it to the club, two girls, a bouncer, and Danny all caught it after she went out."

"Wait, when did Danny get sick?" Ariel asked.

"Ummm...yesterday, I think? He started throwing up in his office, I think he drove himself home after he, y'know, ran out of ammunition?"

That explained a lot...Lacey worked every other Friday. She would have missed that yesterday-

_Why did she care?_

They were almost-friends. She and Danny. And friends cared about friends with stomach viruses, when they got sick. That was what friends did. Yes.

Lacey's night continued as normally as her evening ever did in The Parrot Club. Some patron got slapped _and_ tossed out on his ear for spanking a girl's ass without paying for touching privileges. The highlight of the evening was when a pregnant woman stomped in to curse out her baby-daddy. Then Lacey walked home, and the sudden silence made her think.

Thinking was something Lacey did often, but had tried to play down when she was human. It wasn't _cool_ to be brainy in the 60s. Becoming a vampire had required research, however, and there were always new ideas to consider. (Not a big brooder though, that had never done it for her, lurking around in a big castle and sulking.) And at some point, Lacey had read once that vampires could develop connections with people they fed from often.

The whole "vampire bride" trope was based on the relationship of feeder and donor. But she'd only sipped at Danny once, (a stomach virus might improve his taste, actually,) and that wasn't enough to create a bond. Right? She only liked Danny a _little bit_ then, too. She thought he was funny and sort of cute in his tight suit. The thing Lacey had liked about Mod boys was you could always tell which ones had a cute bum. And were it the mid sixties, Lacey definitely would have pounced on Danny's-

_Damn Ruby!_

First the cashier girl mistook her and Danny for a couple because they'd both been wearing green, vintage clothes. Then stupid Ruby insinuated they were...fuck-buddies or something. Ariel thought they were dating because one of her seventeen sisters, or however many Benson girls there were, had seen them at the grocers.

It was like someone said: _"Don't think about spiders!"_

Now Lacey was thinking of proverbial, Danny-like spiders...

Lacey stomped home to take a cold shower and flop into bed cussing a blue streak.

* * *

The fucking bug Danny caught had thrown him for a fucking loop over the weekend. Fortunately the universe was kind enough not to set fire to the fucking club while he was incapacitated in his bathroom.

He still felt like shite, but at least he only _felt_ like it as opposed to earlier. Monday morning, he shuffled in wearing a blah shade of gray suit and a dark blue shirt. A bit more paperwork than usual was stacked up, but nothing too overwhelming.

Danny supposed he would be lucky if the club didn't really fucking burst into flames this week. His fucking luck never held out this long...

A bit of fucking monotony passed the time in the form of paperwork. Danny was almost caught up when his door opened and some bird chirped, "Mr. Devine?"

Danny blinked. Nobody but the fucking bank (and the odd cop) called him Mr. Devine. Hell, his own fucking da hadn't been Mr. Devine, he'd been Dan Devine. It was a pleasure to leave Belfast behind when he was young and everyone who called him Wee Danny to differentiate between he and his old man.

The bird closing the door was a stripper named Lisa...or Lita...or somesuch. Tall, pale, blue eyes, curly red hair...oh yeah. _Lena_. She wore this pointy little witch hat and green body glitter onstage. She had some kind of fucking green fetish, Danny always figured.

"What?" he frowned, eyeing her cautiously.

Lena always gave him the fucking creeps. Her "Wicked Witch" act did fine, but she never got repeat customers for private showings. She'd latched on to this poor man who'd arrived with a bachelor party and started stalking him until fucking restraining papers were drawn up. The bird was fucking crazy and Danny had a surprise, mandatory drug test penciled in Wednesday. Something about her fucking _mad_ blue eyes made Danny think of a bouncer he'd fucking fired when he'd been found snorting coke off the fucking men's room counter.

Or maybe she was just a fucking card or two shy of a full deck, yeah?

"I heard you weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd see how you were doing," she smiled. It wasn't so much of a smile as a twist of her lips. She was a pretty bird and all, with a spangled black string bikini and a tall pair of heels that had her towering over Danny even if he stood up. "Just seeing if there's anything I could do for you."

Danny gave the bird another looking-over. Ah. That was her fucking game, then. She wanted to play "fuck the boss for favors", which was a game Danny never played.

It was a big fucking mistake to fool around with the staff, which he'd learned long ago when he'd had taken a shine to this pretty bartender, a fucking gorgeous bird. She'd taken offense to his watching a stage act one night, when one of the dancers was trying out a new act, as was his habit to see how the crowd reacted. She accused him of cheating, and tried setting fire to his office when she "caught him" talking to one of the girls who was asking for a weekend off in the next month or so for her sister's wedding, and then she did slash his fucking tires and tipped a pitcher of beer over his head one night when he broke up with her...

Lesson well and fucking learned; Fraternizing with employees was a fucking minefield.

One he wasn't about to fucking cross again, not for this bird.

"Well, you could turn around...and get back to work, so I can get this shit done, yeah?" he scowled, turning back to his paperwork.

Lena giggled and put her hands on the desk, leaning forwards. A lesser man might eye her tits, but Danny just glared up at her. He wasn't fucking kidding, why the hell was she just standing their grinning at him like a fucking cat that had eaten the canary? 

"Oh come on Danny, there must be _something_ you _need_ , yeah?"

Fucking stubborn, wasn't she? "I'm gonna go ahead and use a saying you fucking obviously haven't heard before: No means no. Now get the fuck out."

Lena's cat-eat-canary face twisted and she curled her lip. It made her look more fucking mental than usual. "You can't talk to me like that!"

"No, ah, lemme think-" Danny tapped his temple. "You're in my office uninvited, I told you to leave, twice if I recall and my memory's pretty fucking sharp. So, yeah, I fucking well can. Now scram!"

The door opened again and Lacey peeked in. A glance at the clock showed it was much fucking later than Danny thought, time for the only vampire on his payroll to come sit and poke fun at him while he never got flustered enough to toss her out.

Lacey was wrapped in that coat she put on whenever her stage costume was a bit too much for polite company, probably a little sheer number. Danny had been walking through to his office and happened to see her prancing around in a fucking see-through babydoll, and didn't that fucking haunt him for weeks?

Her blue eyes went from Lena to Danny, and back to Lena before she strode over the shag carpet imperiously, coming to sit on the fucking desk right in front of him, heedless of the offended look the redhead was giving her.

"Hey Danny, heard you were feeling under the weather lately. How you doing?"

The toe of her patent stiletto was poking his thigh, and she had this fucking evil smile on her rosy lips. Oh. Oh!

"Right as fucking rain, just about," he said, settling back in his chair. "Didja miss me then?"

"Of course I did, I-" Lacey paused, looking over her shoulder at Lena. "I'm _sorry_ , am I interrupting something?"

Danny shook his head. "Not at all, we were through anyway. Yeah?"

Lena turned a fucking perfect shade of red Danny would associated with pepperoni. "Oh, fine, we're finished. Have fun sucking his little dick, Tracy!"

"That would be Lacey, and thank you," the little vampire grinned sweet-as-fucking-pie.

Lena flung up her hands with a huff and stomped out the office so hard Danny was fucking stunned there weren't holes in the carpet. Or that she didn't snap a fucking heel. Or even that the door didn't fucking splinter with how hard the woman slammed it behind her.

Lacey turned to him with that evil smile and leaned forward with a stage whisper. "I think she's upset."

"You fucking think so?" Danny snorted, slumping down. "Fuck! Now, I don't fucking fool about with any dancer in the club. Why the fuck does she think she can offer her glittery fucking body up for who knows what fucking purpose?"

Lacey glanced back at the door, leaning back on her hands. Her supple, perfect legs were still a bit too fucking close for Danny to focus on much else, he tried his damnedest. No stockings tonight. Hmm...

"Well, she's a bit... _off_ , that one," Lacey shrugged. "But apparently the consensus is that you and I are either fuck-buddies, or dating."

If Danny had a cup of fucking coffee, he'd have spit it out at that. "What the fuck do they think that for?" he blurted. "I haven't fucking dated anyone since that bartender upended a fucking pitcher over my head!"

Lacey raised her eyebrows, but wisely said nothing. On that topic at least.

"Well, one girl said you are calmer when I come out the office. And other's sister saw us out the other night, y'know, for that five minutes we were standing in line?"

"What the fuck?"

"Kinda what I thought."

"I mean..." Danny wasn't quite able to process clearly. "What the actual fuck? Eight fucking years, and I've never looked twice at a fucking employee, why the fuck do they think that's changed?"

Lacey shrugged again. "If it bothers you, I could stop hanging out in here."

"No."

Danny answered quickly. _Too_ quickly, but fuck it. He liked the company. He was getting used to having Lacey around in his office after her act, wrapped in this coat or wearing fucking lingerie that was inspiring a number of dirty thoughts after hours. But he liked her. Even when she hassled him into eating better and take fucking vitamins like his m-Well not his mother, but a mother, at least.

"No," he continued a beat later. "Let 'em fucking talk, if it doesn't bother you either. I think I'm starting to like the fucking looks on those losers' faces when they see you sitting pretty in that egg chair painting your fucking nails."

Lacey crinkled her nose and tapped him with her toe again. "Well I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow, then. Seriously though," she looked him over critically. "You feeling better? I heard you were throwing up in here the other night, Ruby said her tough old gran was sick as a dog."

"Well I won't be participating in any fucking marathons soon, but I'll live," Danny shrugged. "Just a fucking stomach bug. You fucking pray for death for a few days, drink plenty of fucking fluids, and you're done with it."

A pleased little smile curled Lacey's plush lips as she stood up. She leaned over and kissed the top of Danny's head, which was a fucking shock and he went completely still like she'd fucking slapped him instead.

"Good to know you stayed hydrated. I was starting to think a virus might improve your taste, y'know."

" _Again_ with the fucking Nosferatu talk!" Danny yelped, scooting back and unconsciously touching that place she'd nipped him weeks back. "Jesus fucking Christ woman! I'm not a fucking cow!"

"No..." Lacey agreed slowly, then grinned wolfishly. "You're a noisy, stubborn little billy goat."

"A fucking g-You go sit the fuck down and do whatever the fuck it is you do, you fucking nutter!"

Lacey burst into a bout of laughter that rang off the office walls even as she went over to an egg chair. And fuck Danny to hell and back if it wasn't the prettiest thing he'd ever heard.


	4. Chapter 4

Lacey was curled up in his own fucking parrot chair when he returned to his office after finally collecting the money he was rightfully owed by some fucking loser that didn't know that a loan was not the same fucking thing as the lottery. She grinned when he returned and sat upright, crossing unfairly long legs like a fucking lady despite her wearing...

_Oh fucking hell what was is that thing?_

Lacey giggled. Fuck. Did he say that out loud? Judging by the way she stood up and twirled around, yes, yes he fucking did. Shit!

"You like it? This is a new piece. I wasn't so sure about the style but I love the color," she beamed. "Does purple suit me you think?"

"Get the fuck out of my chair," Danny snapped. "Don't-don't be putting your bare fucking arse in my chair, that's just fucking impolite!"

Lacey snorted, swaggering over to her favored egg chair. He thought she might be wiggling her fucking perfect little arse more than usual just to fuck with him, but you could never tell with Lacey.

"Like you're going to complain about my butt now," she stuck her tongue out childishly, snuggling into the chair and resting her chin on her knees. From the side, it looked like all Lacey had on was strips of purple fucking dental floss. "Rough collection day?"

Oh, she wanted to fucking chat in [that thing](http://i00.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/1702863796/Purple-one-piece-font-b-swimsuit-b-font-temptation-sexy-lingerie-font-b-tight-b-font.jpg)?

Somehow Danny managed to think with his proper fucking head and manage a conversation about the fucking loser he'd had to chase all over town to pin down. He couldn't recall what he said to save his life but he managed to behave like a fucking human before Lacey slipped away to go put some fucking clothes on for her walk home.

She was wearing this fucking deceptively modest wine-colored dress, with a high neckline and long sleeves...except it fit like a fucking glove and ran high up her thighs. Lacey was still wearing the towering white heels she'd had on when she was barely dressed. That made Danny's fucking imagination wonder what she had on underneath it.

In short, he was a fucking mess when Lacey decided to walk out the club with him. She walked him to his van and bumped her shoulder into his and winked. She fucking winked.

"Night Danny, sweet dreams."

It was a fucking miracle he didn't wreck on the drive home, and in retrospect he thanked god there was nobody to run into this time of night on the walk up to his flat because those four words were doing fucking wicked things, spinning around in his brain as they were.

_Night Danny, sweet dreams._

_Night Danny, sweet dreams._

A cold shower just made the hot, fucking unhelpful erection bobbing between his legs that much more noticeable so he decided to get rid of it. It was just a wank in the shower. Nothing personal. No fucking specifics, just himself and his hand, and maybe a fantasy of fucking one of the spread-eagled blondes prominently featured in his dirty magazines. That usually worked.

At least until blonde turned brunette, small and soft with creamy skin he'd seen enough of to know it was flawless and pale all over. Bright fucking blue eyes and pale pink lips. Like she'd had at the grocery store. Although the dramatic smoky-eyed look she favored on stage had it's own charms. Fuck, fuck, no. Not personal. Not personal...

And then he was back in her fucking flat, imagining Lacey wiggling out of that dress and standing between his legs on the sofa in that fucking purple nightmare. Only it wasn't a nightmare, really, it was a fucking wet dream turned reality. It looked solid enough from the front, except for the sheer lace and the way it pushed those small, sweet chebs of hers. Then the slightest turn to the fucking side showed it was fucking held on by string, her bottom only technically covered by a scrap of more fucking lace.

 _Always_ fucking lace...

And then...then he imagined her fangs. He'd seen them once more, without blood coating them. They weren't much fucking bigger than canines but fuck...Danny was fascinated by them. He couldn't remember how it felt to be bitten, but dimly remembered a sting, and then a rush of something. How did it feel to have Lacey fucking nibble on him like a snack? She always made jokes about his taste but had he improved? Would she want to drink him down like her favorite treat?

Oh fuck, Danny groaned, pumping harder. He could only imagine Lacey taking him in her mouth, sucking his fucking brains out. His grip shifted on his cock and something-later to be identified as a hangnail on his thumb, scraped along his length. The unexpected scratching sensation was far from unpleasant.

"FUCK!" Danny yelped, spilling over his hand to the mental image of Lacey's fangs brushing against him.

Danny knew at that moment he was in too fucking deep.

Lacey French was far and away the most fascinating person Danny had ever met. She was clever, vibrant, cheeky, sexy as hell, and he should have known he was doomed from the moment she peeled off her coat onstage and gave him that smile that promised nothing but fucking trouble.

The staff apparently thought they were either fucking in his office or dating, but unfortunately neither was the case. Danny hadn't dated in years, but he hadn't exactly found the time for more than an impersonal wank here or there. And there wasn't much appealing about him that would really change that unless he paid. He had before. Maybe he ought to find someone to shag to get rid of these fucking _feelings_.

He blamed Lacey's well-meaning fussing, (at least he _hoped_ it was fucking well-meaning rather than her wanting to fucking devour him like steak,) all her fucking mothering and prodding. A man didn't like his ma hovering over him as an adult, but a pretty bird in lingerie?

Fuck he was sick...

For liking Lacey the way he did, or for wanking to thoughts of her fangs on his cock, fuck him if he knew which was worse.

* * *

Lacey stripped off her dress in her bedroom, tossing it with a few other clothes that hadn't made it into the non-existent hamper. She caught her reflection in her mirror out the corner of her eye, and turned to examine the view.

Silver wasn't really poisonous to vampires, but it didn't reflect them for some reason. Until digital cameras, Lacey never showed up in photographs either, because of the silver used in film. So, Lacey had a polished stainless steel mirror instead of a silver one. And it was all kinds of awkward trying to fix her hair and makeup without an unsilvered mirror.

Hmm...

Lacey turned a little, eyeing the way the purple teddy looked. She had liked it earlier, she thought it was sexy when she came across it online. The hooting audience seemed to agree, but Danny had looked at it like it was an affront to his eyes.

She thought she'd caught Danny eyeballing her a time or two. But then...he was a guy. As far as Lacey knew he was heterosexual on top of that, and in general, straight guys would ogle just about any girl in skimpy clothes. Or lack thereof. Besides, Danny was surrounded by all shapes and sizes of scantily clad females. He, as he said, was probably more upset about her sitting in his goofy-looking parrot chair than anything.

He'd been extra twitchy tonight, probably because his nerves were frayed from chasing some poor bastard all over town trying to get him to pay up. The staff apparently thought Lacey was fucking Danny because he was, quote, "calmer when she left his office", unquote. If Danny was calmer when she left, then Lacey wondered what a Valium would do to him.

Or an _actual_ good hard fuck.

The idea made Lacey snort. He'd seen her kill a man with her teeth. Danny may be willing to be friendly with her and tease her once or twice about her fangs, but there was no man in his right mind that would want her to do him after that. People were vulnerable when they shagged, too vulnerable to trust Lacey not to bite them if they knew what she was.

N-not that Lacey wanted to fuck her boss, of course.

Even if he was surprisingly cute when he was being snappy, like a growly puppy. And he had an even cuter ass in those tight trousers. Lacey picked at the strings of her teddy until it fluttered to the ground, sighing as she flopped onto her bed. One hand wandered to her breast while the other stroked down her belly. She was damp down there already.

Well what the hell? It wasn't like a vampire was going to get into heaven anyway, right? If she had to go to hell when she eventually died, she'd like her list of sins to be enjoyable. And touching herself to naughty thoughts about a certain club owner and his fluttery hands and his cute ass and brown eyes might as well be up there.

Eeeeeeven if it was gonna make it hella awkward to face him next time...

* * *

Which turned out to be on the street one evening. Vampires had to eat too, so Lacey was getting her shopping done before the stores all shut for the night. Danny was walking out with a shopping bag while Lacey was walking in. They both froze for a minute, staring at each other in that way people did when they saw someone from work outside of work.

Lacey felt like _"I touched myself think about you"_   was written all over her face. She was highly aware of the frumpy sweater she was wearing, the one that was too warm to get rid of, and she forced herself to focus on the absurd grayish-yellow color of Danny's suit. It looked like a something you sneezed into a tissue. Yes. That actually helped.

"Uh...hi?" Danny blinked.

"Hi..." Lacey repeated, shifting on her feet. At least her skinny jeans were clean, and she was wearing a nice pair of shoes. Not that it mattered.

"So...bye?"

Lacey almost giggled. "Bye," she nodded, stepping out his way. She was wringing her hands in front of herself, crap, that was her nervous-and-awkward tell. "See ya Danny."

"Yeah, yeah...we really gotta stop meeting at the fucking grocery store."

"Well it's not like I can meet you in a coffee shop unless you know one open after dark."

_'What the actual fuck Lacey? Stop talking!'_

"Ah, 'round the corner from here, place with the green awning?" Danny said. Then blinked. And seemed to register what he said. "Fuck. Uh, I mean, uh-"

And then Danny turned and ran with his shopping bag.

Huh...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born from realizing I had left this on a cliffhanger. And that "Lena" was still creeping around. Hmmmm...I know! Another cliffhanger! HA!
> 
> Warning children! There's some angry vampire, blood, and mentions of drug use.

Lacey knew the exact moment that Danny had returned because of the screeches.

And for once: He was not the screecher.

Ever since their awkward encounter outside the grocery store three nights ago that ended with Danny running like she'd set him on fire, Lacey hadn't seen Danny. Well, she hadn't seen him long. She thought she'd seen him slip in and out of his office while she was on stage, and then last night she thought she saw him when she was heading into the back for a private showing. Neither time she got to talk to him or get close enough to verify.

Darned, twitchy little man. A feral cat would be easier to tame...

However, the other night had been a surprise drug test. (Surprisingly the test had never showed Lacey was dead, or rather undead, but they were tailored for drugs so maybe it didn't matter? Science kept getting weirder as Lacey got older.) From the bouncers to the barkeeps to the dancers and the waitresses. Everybody was tested. And everybody had passed, except for...

Lacey had been around since the sixties. She could probably write a nice little coffee table book about drugs and drug users and drug addicts. There could be a whole chapter dedicated to signs someone does drugs but won't admit to it.

And Lena hit on the three Rs: _Refusal, Reluctance, Righteous Anger At Being Caught._

When the tests were happening, she'd refused until someone pointed out that it was in their contracts. (Danny may have a vulgar vocabulary, but his contracts were airtight.) She reluctantly submitted to the test, and the only reason Lacey knew she'd failed it was because she came in during a truly spectacular shouting match backstage.

Lena was still in her street clothes, (green, always green with her, why?) Danny likely approaching her as soon as she came in that night. He was hard to miss in the electric blue suit he was wearing with a bright yellow shirt. However, Danny wasn't saying anything, too busy ducking the killer stilettos and skimpy outfits and makeup supplies being chucked at him while Lena vented her spleen.

"YOU HIDEOUS LITTLE TROLL! YOU RIGGED THAT TEST, DIDN'T YOU?! I'M CLEAN! YOU CAN'T FIRE ME I QUIT!""

A red stiletto that might've been Ruby's clipped Danny's shoulder despite his bobbing and weaving.

"FUCK! I fucking well can fire your arse you mad fucking bint!" he snapped back. "It's in your bloody contract! You wanna get yourself really fucking clean and come back? Fine! But-ACK!"

The other dancers were staying well away from the fight. The bouncers, if Lacey had to guess, were waiting for the opportunity to pounce. A tall one in a gray sleeveless muscle shirt finally dove in and wrapped his arms around Lena's waist, pinning her arms as he lifted her feet off the ground. She shrieked and kicked and wriggled until another bouncer rushed in and grabbed her feet.

They toted Lena out while she wailed like a stock villain in a kid's cartoon. "THIS ISN'T OVER! I'LL FUCKING GET YOU FOR THIS YOU BASTARD!"

Danny let out a huff of air, throwing up his hands. " _Whatever!_  A'right, the rest of you, get back to...whatever the fuck you were doing before Hurricane Lena stormed through."

He walked out and had to pass by Lacey. She could see the moment he noticed her because he nearly jumped out of his blue suit.

"Fuck!" he squeaked. "Christ woman, what are you doing here?"

"I'm working tonight. What else?"

Danny narrowed his eyes, then flung his hands up again. "Fine! I have a migraine the size of a certain fucking redheaded junkie, so if you don't mind, I'll be in my fucking office."

"What got you up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Lacey scoffed. It was one thing if he was awkward or embarrassed around her, she wasn't going to put up with his snarky little attitude.

His response was a scowl and another huff as he stomped off.

* * *

Fuck, _fuck, **fuck!**_

Danny had forgot Lacey was working extra nights to cover for the last girl on staff that took ill with that bug. He'd successfully avoided her for three nights running, (it wasn't forever, mind, it was just...until he got his shit together, yeah?) but of course she'd show up in the middle of his attempting to sack a fucking madwoman.

Lena had tested positive for traces of heroin. Danny wasn't sure where she was sticking the needle since her he'd never seen any track marks on her, but maybe the green glitter had covered them. Or maybe she was one of those sick fucks that stuck the needle between her toes.

Eugh, that image just gave him the heebie-fucking-jeebies, yuck!

Either way, she had to go. He had a strict "no drugs" policy, but there were exceptions. One girl's mental-health-a-ma-bob medication had shown up on the test, but she'd needed those to fucking function so obviously that was overlooked. Then there was the bouncer that had a false positive because of a fucking poppyseed muffin, like the urban myth suggested. To the ones that had failed straight out, Danny would give some a second chance if they went and cleaned up their acts.

Lena?

Not a fucking chance.

It was the highlight of his night to get rid of that woman. Ever since that day she popped into his office offering herself up, Danny'd been creeped the fuck out by the redhead. It was her eyes, dammit, those mad blue eyes and that sneer that made her look like she smelled boiled cabbage. Fucking mental, that's what she was.

Danny settled down to do some paperwork, considering the matter finished. He turned his brain to the task of pulling his shit together so he could handle a half-dressed Lacey to come and consensually harass him in his office...but she never came in. It did, of course, occur to Danny that he'd offended her with his bad fucking attitude. Aw shit, wouldn't that fucking figure?

His grandmaster plan had relied on Lacey approaching him in his office and teasing him for running away the other night. He had fled the scene in terror and hadn't realized he'd fucked himself out of a date until he was a block away. Danny was going to try and ask Lacey in some smooth-like manner if the next time she went out shopping she'd want to meet at that little cafe or some shit?

Only she never came.

Fuck!

Danny was used to being an absolute loser in the dating game. He talked a good game, (of sorts,) but unless he was paying or the girl was sniffing around him for money or a favor, then he was out of luck. Too short, too runty, too loud, too everything-rude to be bothered with. And as far as Lacey was concerned? He was too foul-tasting to boot. Fuck.

When he was finished up for the night, at nearly three in the morning, Danny decided to go home and throw those fucking supplements he'd been taking out the window. And maybe that bag of oranges he'd been eating too. Maybe he'd even lob them out the fucking window one at a time and see how far they could go. It wasn't like he'd felt terrible before his iron levels and vitamin C were up. Fuck it.

The only people left were the remaining crew cleaning up for the night, and the street was abandoned as he walked to his bus on the street. He was digging in his jacket's inner pocket for the keys when he heard the fast clicking of heels coming up behind him.

And he just had the keys out when the mystery person grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, a cold metal blade sliding against his throat. Danny made a noise like a puppy being stepped on, (how fucking brave, Devine,) and a voice hissed in his ear: "I fucking told you I'd get even, Danny."

The blade dug into his throat, and Danny could feel the skin splitting. Fuck. Fuck. His last thoughts were gonna be, "Oh fucking hell!" or "What the fuck?" before he died in front of his fucking strip club, killed by a fucking mad junkie and fuck everything!

"You shouldn't have fired me, you wouldn't like me when I'm crossed, don't you agree?" Lena fairly sang now, cutting the blade in deeper until hot blood started oozing out, dribbling down his skin. "I'm gonna slice a pretty red smile right across your fucking throat, Devine, and then I'm gonna leave you here to bleed. Heard you never did get around to getting those security cameras in the front, didja?"

_Fuuuuuuck..._

Danny shut his eyes. He couldn't talk. Between the cold knife and the hot blood and the mortal fucking terror roiling in his gut, his throat had closed up. If Lena was hoping for a cheery fucking discourse before she murdered him, she was gonna be mighty fucking disappointed...assuming he didn't fucking faint first. Oh fuck-

"Well?!" Lena shook his head, and Danny knew her knife hit something it ought not have hit because he could feel more blood leaking out now, the stinging pain of the cut and a gasping sound escaped his throat...

And then Lena was gone and he crumbled to the ground, clutching at his throat.

* * *

Lacey had made a resolution to put in her hours, do her routine, sit in the dressing room with the girls and help put things to right after Lena's little tantrum, and then leave. She wasn't going to sit in Danny's office if he was going to be a prick about whatever had his knickers in a twist.

She was halfway to her flat when she stopped and groaned, and turned back around.

Fuck. She couldn't do it.

She'd just corner him in the office and pin him down. Figuratively or literally. Whichever coaxed him into being more open with her.

His minibus was still there where he parked it. In fact, Lacey's superior night-vision could make out the shocking yellow of his shirt...and the bright red hair of the woman clinging to him. For one second, she'd thought the woman was hanging onto him from behind, and that thought made her unbearably jealous. And in the second, Lacey recognized her as Lena. And through the general filth that filled the air of London at night...Lacey could make out the fresh tang of blood, too.

Her instincts took over, and Lacey was across the street in the blink of an eye, tackling Lena too the ground despite her superior height. The blood was growing stronger as more of it spilled out in the open air, Danny was curling in a ball on the ground, clapping his hands over his throat, and underneath her Lena had the nerve to take the stained knife in her hand and stab it between Lacey's ribs, tearing right through her cheap leather coat and the dress underneath it.

Oh this fucking bitch was _dead_.

Lacey's fangs shot out and she sunk her nails into the tender flesh of Lena's arms, (through her own fucking coat, a petty detail of vengeance,) and her reflection in Lena's horror-widened eyes was a thing of gruesome beauty.

"What the hell are you-" Lena squawed before Lacey dove down and sunk into her throat.

By the time Lacey was aware of the taste- _bitter_ , most drug-addicts were, Lena tasted a bit like a very cheap, very dry wine, like a cooking sherry almost, _eww_ ,-she jerked back up and spit Lena's blood out. Disgusting. Why hadn't she just left her to bleed out? Nasty. Lacey's bite looked like a nasty slash to the throat though, so she'd be leaving the body for the cops to find at their leisure...

" _F-f-f-fuck_..."

Oh fuck, Danny.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know is bleeding profusely from a neck wound, don't do like Lacey, go see a real doctor. Thank you.

The first rule when someone was bleeding profusely: Stop the bleeding.

Obvious perhaps, but, it took Lacey a moment to remember that because she'd never had anyone bleed this much without her intending them to die. And she didn't want Danny to die, obviously, and pressing a cloth over his neck wasn't going to cut it...so, Lacey got him upright and propped him against the side of his bus, straddled his lap, and sealed her mouth under the deep gash at his throat. Something about her saliva healed wounds quickly. If she could seal the skin closed, then that would be a good first step.

She was hideously unprepared for the taste of Danny Devine.

Lacey shivered.

Holy fuck he was _delicious_.

The last taste of Danny she'd had, he tasted burned out and sickly. He worked too much, ate too poorly, slept too little, and stressed out too much. She couldn't do much for the stress, (that was just Danny,) but she'd poked and prodded him to work on his diet and take supplements. Apparently he'd been doing something else right because his blood tasted rich and tangy on Lacey's tongue, hot and sweet and scrumptious. She lapped aimlessly over his skin, savoring the blood spilt down his neck, staining his collar, until she got a hold of herself and tended to the wound.

She'd almost let her primal instinct to feed take over as she ran her tongue over the source. She pulled it together and simply licked until the wound was shut, but when she pulled back, she was disturbed to find Danny listless and pale, his breathing shallow.

Uh-ohh...

She really needed to get him somewhere...

Lacey peered up at the van, and a proverbial lightbulb went off.

* * *

Danny woke up on a bed. For a moment, he thought he was in a hospital. But the mattress was too fucking cozy...in his limited experience of overnight hospitalization. And the hospital didn't give patients cozy thick comforters, did it?

No. They did not...

Then Lacey's face appeared over him, grinning like that fucking disappearing cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"Oh good! You're not dead!"

"...uh...?"

Real fucking eloquent there, yup.

Speaking of disappearing, Lacey vanished in the space of two blinks. Then the mattress shifted and she was back, shoving a pillow behind his head so he was almost sitting upright. He didn't recognize the room. The walls you could see were painted white, but posters and pictures covered most of the surface. The closet was open and was almost comically empty, with previously worn clothes cast off and strewn across the floor like fucking carpet. A dresser was directly across from the bed with pretty, silky underthings slipping out one opened drawer.

He recognized that one lacy red stocking right off, and that's how he knew this was Lacey's place, tucked in under her tie-dye comforter and gawping at her like a fucking schoolboy seeing a pair of bare breasts for the first time.

Ironic, that, given how Lacey was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Her damp hair was pulled up, like she'd taken a shower, and she held out a glass of orange juice to him.

"Think you can drink this?"

"Uh..." Danny hesitantly gripped the glass. He felt...heavy, but too light, too, and was really surprised his hands were as steady as they were. "Yeah, yeah."

"Slowly," Lacey cautioned. "You gotta rehydrate, don't down it all in one gulp."

It was mighty fucking hard to obey Lacey's command when his throat felt like fucking sandpaper, but Danny managed it. Mostly. He had to wipe his chin with his wrist because some dribbled out his mouth-

"Where the fuck are my clothes?!"

Lacey rolled her eyes. "In the trash, duh, they were covered in blood. Well, your shirt was. You've still got your pants on, I'd figure you'd be more worried about that."

Well not until she pointed it out.

Although she'd coaxed him into finishing the orange juice like he was a cranky fucking toddler, or some shite, Lacey eventually told him what happened: Lena jumped him with a knife and cut pretty fucking close to an artery, so he bled like a son of a bitch. Lacey "sort of" jumped Lena and "kind of" murdered the fucking psycho-bitch dead as a doornail. With her teeth. Amazingly it did make Danny feel a bit safer to know she'd had a full meal, (of sorts,) before putting her mouth near his fucking neck.

A twisted little part of him was seething that he'd missed that gorgeous pink tongue of hers lashing over his skin, but he tamped that back right fucking quick.

Fuck.

Lacey then said she bundled him in the back of his van once she'd sealed the wound, and drove him here to her place since she didn't know his address. He'd been out for nearly three hours and she had been starting to think she'd been too late and he'd need to go to the hospital after all.

Danny still sort of felt like crap. He was freezing, and still thirsty, but hell, he was alive. That was something.

He moved to get up, then, but Lacey pushed him back down on the bed none-too-gently.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home-"

"Like hell you're driving! You are going to sit right here, and in the morning I'll let you go."

"I-"

"Do not get a choice? No, you don't," she clucked, arranging the blankets more snugly over him. "You've lost a lot of blood, really quickly, and I need to keep an eye on you. Now. Do you fancy a bedtime story, or a goodnight kiss?"

Danny tossed himself onto his side, his back to her, (not hiding his fucking blush at all, no!) and growled, "Fuck me, you're a bossy fucking vampire."

A small hand pressed his shoulder through the blankets, and a pair of petal-fucking-soft lips brushed his unshaven cheek so near his ear his whole body hummed.

"Yes, and I'm glad you're still around to fucking curse about it."

Oh...well... _fuck_...

Lacey crawled off the bed, saying something about leaving to rest. Like hell he'd "rest" now. He was half fucking hard in her bed from one kiss, like a fucking schoolboy with his first hormonal crush.

Fuck...

* * *

That Danny was alive and swearing was the best news Lacey had gotten in the past decade, more or less. She was certain he'd popped off while she'd been driving his bus here to her flat, but no, he was breathing and recovering. Slowly. She wasn't a doctor but if a quick internet search could verify the symptoms of serious, irreparable blood loss, that'd be good enough.

Lacey really wanted to climb into the bed and hug Danny, but she probably should keep him calm, and personal contact tended to make him a little...yappy.

He looked so small when she got him into the bed. Logically, Lacey knew he was small. He was taller than her, but only by a head. His suits certainly didn't add any bulk to his skinny little body, but pale and limp, he looked so tiny and frail that Lacey wanted to ressurect that bitch and fuck her up all over again for even coming near her-For coming near Danny. As it stood, she'd pottered around her flat shifting books for the past three hours while Danny lay zonked out in her bed. Tonight was one of those nights he'd either be at the club, or he wouldn't, you couldn't tell until he'd arrived, so nobody at the Parrot Club was going to question his disappearance.

She'd had to take a call for him from the cops though. They'd found Lena's body, roped off the alley and blah blah blah, and were searching for suspects.

"Mr. Devine's secretary" told them primly that there were no security cameras available, so sorry, and that Lena Greene had been fired last night for failing a drug test. Yes, she certainly wasn't popular. Mr. Devine wasn't home? Well she'd try to find him for them, yes. Have a lovely day.

Hmm. She'd have to roust Danny and get him to talk to them, but judging from what the man on the phone said, they were chocking this murder up to drug-related violence. There were a few bad gangs in the rougher parts of London, 'round Waterloo Bridge and the like, that dealt in drugs and were very, very dangerous fellows to cross.

They always tasted as burned out and foul as Danny had after that first bite, probably their lacking diet and poor living conditions...

Mm. That was another problem, Lacey licked her lips. She only murdered whilst she dined on people if they were filthy shitheads, rapists and abusive assholes like Arthur Kingsleigh had been. Those were small losses in the big picture, cleaner than trusting the court system to adequately deal with them. She had never live-fed anyone more than once. That would make them suspicious, the euphoria and the dizziness and the loss of consciousness that came with whatever agents were in her saliva.

Just thinking about how sweet and clean Danny's blood was now though had her shivering.

The best blood Lacey ever tasted was drawn mid-coitus. Something about the pounding hearts and feel-good chemicals rushing through the veins, her cold body flushed with desire, skin against skin; Everything screamed carnality before her fangs even came out, and there was something primally pleasing about hot seed from a hard cock filling her up while blood filled her mouth like rich wine and she drank her fill.

But Danny was too weak for that, and even if he weren't, he was her fucking employer. A friend at best, and a very good one at that. Rarely had anyone known Lacey was a vampire and still stuck around, and she liked that.

She loved sitting in those old-fashioned egg chairs in his office that was so out of date she felt right at home, liked to tease him until his face turned pink, and to listen to him complain in his colorful manner about his day and give his own comments about silly little things she had to say. She liked how he was never still, how his eyes couldn't hide a thing and how innocent words turned filthy in his mouth.

Why would she want to give up the best... _thing_...she'd ever had with a guy just for a feeding and a good fuck?

As soon as Danny was mended well enough to go home, things could start going back to normal. Yes. That's the way it ought to be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows dust off the WIP*
> 
> I've had this half-finished chapter since May, so it's about time it was posted. Just in time for the month of Halloween! :D

The police hadn't hassled Danny for long about Lena's body. Apparently, London's finest were familiar enough with Lena Greene that it was no great loss to them if the bint got her throat cut and bled out in a dirty alley. That was, perhaps, a tad horrifying and reflective of the local bobbies, but at the same time...they really weren't too wrong.

Plus, there was a rumor that some powerful politician's wife was quick to shut down the investigation because it looked badly on her to have an estranged daughter found dead outside a strip club in a pool of her own blood. Lacey offered him a toast to corrupt politics and policing, and Danny agreed. Crisis fucking averted...

However, there were a few problems left behind.

One being that they still needed a new dancer, and now, girls were too fucking scared to come in to audition. Most of the dancers that knew Lena were as certain as the cops she had it coming, but there was still a noticeable gap where she should have been performing and it took some creative juggling to fill it. It didn't help that one other girl had some...some fucking breakdown that prompted her to run off to get some silicone upgrades, which'd take six weeks or so to recover from. Considering he got his throat cut earlier in the week, it was safe to say: This was _not_ Danny Devine's fucking week.

Lacey, bless her, made a call and summoned up a friend who could help out until the fucking hysteria died down.

At first glance, Mulan Fa was more suited to being a bouncer. Hell. If Mulan Fa _was_ a bouncer, Danny could fire the rest of them. She had this fucking terrifying _Look_ , like she could kill a man in six ways and not leave a fucking mark on the body. That Lacey bragged about her friend taking out a man thrice her fucking size in two shots of her fists had only reinforced the idea.

But, Mulan was a very adaptable bird. When Lacey brought her to his office, she flat-out said she did not do skin, which Danny was always skeptical about because nobody came to a strip club for fucking art and intellectualism. But, her gymnastics-ballet-acrobatic-whatever-the-fucking-routine she performed in a skintight black-and-red leotard was sexy enough for the panting losers in the audience, and actually quite fucking entertaining, really.

Danny had to ask how Lacey knew Mulan, though. They were two different people, Lacey being a cheeky little flirt, and the latter a more serious, calm sort. The first time she caught Danny pitching a fit in his office, Mulan had watched like it was the fucking zoo and then said, _"Have you considered decaf?"_

"Mulan?" Lacey hummed, swinging her legs. "Oh, she was traveling when we met in an airport. She's a slayer."

"A...slayer?"

"Mmhmm, y'know, actually, slayers aren't after every vampire they can sink a stake in. Just the ones that are more...murdery, and such. If they find a vampire like me that's integrated securely in society, well-fed and nonthreatening, they're supposed to leave me be. Mulan helped fight off a couple of fuckwits that weren't with the program, and we keep in touch. She's taking a little break right now, like a vacation. You should ask to see her collection sometime, it's pretty interesting."

"I don't suppose by 'collection' you mean she's a fucking philatelist with a fat book of stamps?"

"Nah, she's more of a stabby-ologist, she likes knives," Lacey said, then frowned. "The fuck's a philatalist or...or whatever you just said?"

"It's a stamp collector."

"And you know that _because_...?"

"I had an uncle that thought he was real posh 'cos he was the first that went to fucking uni. Didn't graduate, mind you, but the fucker went out his way to use fancy fucking words nobody knew the meaning of and shit to look smarter. I used to look up words in a dictionary when he was coming over and fuck him at his own game."

Lacey snorted. "Oh my god, that is _so_ you..."

* * *

 "So...what is he?"

It was their night off, Lacey had takeout and wine and Mulan watching crap telly and catching up on each other's business. An average girl's night, if you will...skipping the part where Lacey had was drinking blood, actually, and Mulan was polishing her favorite butterfly knife. She'd named it Cricket. (Not Mulan, Lacey did, because it annoyed Mulan to have a deadly weapon nicknamed after a non-threatening bug.) She wasn't sure if Mulan had changed the subject or was talking about somebody on the screen, so of course she asked, "Who?"

Mulan rolled her eyes and flicked the knife closed, setting it aside. "Danny Devine. What is he?"

"Eh..." Lacey scrunched up her nose. How to describe Danny to an outsider? "Well he swears like a sailor, but after awhile you get used to that and don't pay him any mind. He's a pretty shrewd business man for all he acts like a lunatic, I guess, and he's probably running one of the safer strip joints I've worked in."

"Mmhmm...but what is he?" Mulan repeated. "I mean, come on. You told him I was a slayer and he didn't blink, he knows your a vampire. What is he?"

"Oh. That. He's a human. Just...mortal."

"A mortal human." Mulan, again, repeated, doing her poker-faced thing. "Not a seer, not a warlock, just a plain human being? And he didn't freak?"

Lacey shrugged. "Well no more than usual. A little surprising I know-"

"So this Danny Devine is dating a vampire and your telling me he was fine with it?"

Suddenly, that needle-scratch sound effect used to indicate a person's broken train of thought made total sense. It practical echoed in her ears as Lacey set down her glass of blood. "Uh...would you run that by me again Mulan? I think I'm going deaf, because I did not hear you say 'dating' and 'Danny Devine' in the same sentence, did I?"

"You certainly did...was I wrong?"

"Yes! Why?"

Mulan shrugged, as if it weren't a big deal at all. "Well...you hang out in his office a lot. You called me in to help him out, not that I mind. And when he's on the floor while you're working he watches you like he wants to eat you, or rather, like he wants _you_ to eat _him_."

Lacey wrinkled her nose. "Is that an oral sex joke?"

"It could be, if you're into that. I mean I don't bother with male anatomy, you know that, but if it concerned me I'd sure be wary about fangs down-"

"Oh my god! No! No, no, no, _no no no_ , N-O, no! Just- _God_ , no! Look, he di-doesn't taste that great," Lacey corrected herself mid-sentence, not wanting to give Mulan the wrong idea. "And even if he did, I wouldn't sleep with him. He's my boss!"

Holding up her hands, Mulan shook her head. "Okay, okay, my mistake. But does he know that? I mean...I'm serious. Have you ever seen him watch you?"

"No. Danny doesn't really watch the dancers unless they're trying out a new act..." At least, that's what was commonly accepted as the truth. There were a lot of lights out on the stage though, sometimes it was hard to see very far out in the audience. Maybe he passed by once or twice without their notice...? "Look it doesn't matter. I don't sleep with my bosses, and Danny doesn't sleep with his employees. There's this whole story about a tire-slashing psycho bitch or whatever-It's not happening."

"Alright. But you know, a simple 'no' would suffice." Mulan gave that damned smirk of hers that made her look unbearably pleased with herself. "You just made it sound like you were working to convince someone else..."

"You know, _normal_ people just tease. They don't make smug little faces and turn everything they hear around. You need to socialize more." Lacey scoffed, slumping down in her seat.

"Sorry." Mulan shrugged...but not the least bit actually sorry, in Lacey's opinion.

Ugh...

Why did everyone think Lacey was banging Danny? Sitting in his office? That wasn't suspicious, was it? And if Danny was stressing out about finding another dancer, he'd be an unbearable _bear_ until the pressure let up, so of course she helped out. And...and...

Did he really watch her or was Mulan mistaken about that part?

* * *

There was a slight bump in attendance lately, people coming to check out Mulan's act. Danny crunched the numbers and was pleased they'd made up for shaky business in the wake of Lena's...homicide investigation, that's what the cops called it. And this was a rare month where he had caught up to almost everyone on his list of people that owed him on loans, so, all things considered, Danny was in a fucking good mood.

Tonight Lacey was curled up in her favorite egg chair, filing her nails. The man who was just in here was too harried to notice her. He seemed to have run a fucking marathon to get here with an envelope of cash, saying his car had a flat _and_ his bus ran late so he'd had to walk across town to get here and his phone died so he'd missed all of Danny's calls. But, the unlucky bastard still brought Danny's fucking money in _technically_ on time, so they were square.

He counted it, just to be sure, when Lacey uncurled herself from the chair and sashayed over. She had on a bloody garter belt tonight, and a wicked little push-up bra. Stockings, fuck-me heels, knickers as lacy and sheer as the rest of the black number,  _fuck_ , it was easy to pretend he wasn't gawking because he didn't fucking know where to look first.

"So, Danny. You got any brothers?"

"What? No." There was only one Danny Devine, and that was he. Most people fucking thanked god for it, he supposed.

"No cousins in the area? No visiting relatives?"

"No, and why the fucking interest?" Danny asked, settling back in his chair. She was sitting on his desk yet. It was more distracting when she did, but now that she was talking to him and he'd finished counting the money he couldn't not stare at her, and she was lucky her eyes were so uncommonly fucking pretty or else he'd never meet them. That fucking push-up number oughta come with a damned warning label...

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Lacey just shrugged, casual-like. "No real reason. I just noticed sometimes I see a guy out in the audience that looks a bit like you, but y'know, you don't watch the dancers."

Fuck.

"Ah..." Danny blinked. He didn't watch the dancers. And he didn't watch Lacey...much. It was a random, er, irregular, not-a-fucking-habit-just-sort-of-a-coincident thing. Yeah. "Well, must have been a mistake then. Some other runty tosser maybe?"

Lacey gave him a long look, then smirked. She then proceeded to invade his fucking personal space, close enough he could smell her perfume or her shampoo or some sweet-smelling lady rubbish like that, and she _ruffled_ his fucking hair.

"A runty tosser with a bad haircut, yeah. Must be."

Alright, potential crisis averted. He was just sort of fucking fascinated by Lacey. It wasn't _a thing_ , really, and he liked her sitting in his office and teasing him and listening to his rants and shit that would be utterly ruined if they started knocking boots. They were...friends? Danny had never had a lot of those, but, he thought it was something mighty fucking close to this thing he had with Lacey that was not _a_ _thing_ , mind you. It was just some sort of...of...of some kind of bloody gratitude-induced crush? _Thanks for saving my fucking life, you sexy blood-sucking guardian angel!_

Nope, no need to admit he sometimes peeked at Lacey wiggling on the stage and thought about her with his hand wrapped around his fucking prick because he _was_ a runty toss-

"Oi! What's wrong with my fucking hair?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up soon: Lacey needs help and there's only one man for the fucking job...amidst a heaping mess of tension.


End file.
